Shadow of Thy Self
by CrimsonSky47
Summary: "I am your shadow, I hold all your inner hatred and regret. How does it feel to face me?" The Maple Alliance commences battle against Arkarium, the Black Mage commander. Though when Arkarium strikes up a spell that brings they're darkest regrets forward, will they let themselves be broken and taunted by it? [OneShot collection]


**A/N: Hello guys! It's Crimmy here, and I've decided to create a chapter - leaning more on the one-shot collection side, actually - story about the MapleStory classes, such as Xenon, Zero, the Heroes, and etc based on their storylines.  
****The idea came to my head when I was fighting Arkarium on my character, when you are transported to the part where he sends you to fight your 'inner hatred' to escape and come back to battle, and I was talking to a friend of mine while _also_ playing Persona 4 Golden, so I thought it'd be a great idea to try write some angst. **

**Needless to say, this is just the prologue. I attempted to write in a style similar to a general point of view, meaning that this isn't any class/character, just somebody who is in the fight in general. Since I'm not so great of an author bare with me about the tiny mistakes! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own MapleStory, the classes, in any way. They all belong to Nexon/Wizet. **

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Your breathing quickened as your body lunged to the right, evading the snake that spawned from the ground. The commander, the intruder, _his _disciple, was cackling with insane laughter as you moved forward to create contact with your weapon and his body.

The white-bearded man could only gleam with anticipation while it shields itself a blue barrier, your skill reflects, inflicting the pain you wanted to give back to yourself. You could feel a wound forming from your weapon, fabric/metal of your armour ripping slightly, and the blood swell up your throat as you are sent back to create a large dent onto the walls of his altar.

Arkarium refuses to let it end there, and neither do you. Picking yourself up from the ground, you bite your lip in pain while your comrade places a healing spell onto your body. You utter a thank you while the numbing sensation spreads across your battered self, cooling the heat and removing the scars that were formed from your failed attempt.

You draw your weapon and run forward again, though you know you have learned from your lesson the first time and check for that barrier before you commence your attack. This time your weapon succeeds, it injures the commander by the waist and his gasp of pain was somewhat satisfactory to your hearing. You turn back and leap, more of your comrades taking the opportunity you've created to launch their offenses. Hues of colour and magic lighten the dim altar while Arkarium snaps back into realization, summoning his snakes to become shields while he heals himself with their health. He snarls towards your direction; you only grin in arrogance; and then you create a stance to protect yourself when you see him lift his staff, black and red radiating from the pole.

_It is coming,_ the yell of another ally resounds in your ears, _everyone, prepare yourself!_

Your eyes could see it, the cracking of glass blocking your vision, but you put your arms over your body to defend yourself as the blow overwhelms your allies. It knocks most of them down, their bodies vulnerable and battered, covered in bruises and scars from that single attack alone. Arkarium laughs with a disgusting smirk, bathing in his sinister glory and your blood boils while your mana/force charges itself, running forward with a cry of battle. Your allies heal amongst themselves and soon follow after you; keeping up with you, and then you all come for a final attack.

Arkarium only stares at you and your comrades with his snake-like eyes, and the smirk grows wider when he lifts his staff. Your eyes react faster than your body, and before you could yell out for your friends to halt – but it seems like they noticed too, and their bodies fail they're thoughts as well – there is red and black controlling your vision and the feeling of falling has never scared you as much as now.

When you come into conscious, everything is dark. There is nothing but black, but you could feel ground, which relieves you greatly. Your comrades and allies are nowhere in sight, and there is a deafening silence that causes anxiety to swell up your throat. You call out their names in worry, but then you notice there is a figure standing in front of you. They have hair like yours, same skin colour, same height, same clothes and same weapon. Their expression and every feature they own was exactly like yours – except for their eyes. Their eyes were gold, not like yours, gold and beady, similar to a snake.

This was you. This was you, and yet, at the same time, it wasn't you.

'It' smiles. Then it whispers – or hisses, you weren't sure anymore – little words that echoes through the desolate place you stand.

"_I am the shadow of thy self. How does it feel to face your inner hatred?"_

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**A short prologue into the story! Will try to keep consistent in updating so long as I don't run out of motivation! Reviews are welcome. Gentle criticsm, please!**


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